


Just Like An Open Book

by pretty0dd_semisweet



Category: Blink-182
Genre: Hurt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:11:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretty0dd_semisweet/pseuds/pretty0dd_semisweet





	Just Like An Open Book

“Oh god, shut up!” I yelled at him. I couldn’t hear it anymore. It was getting too much again, it was getting too hard to hold everything back again.

“How dare you to tell me to shut up you asshole?” His eyes glistened with anger while his fingers curled into a fist. “What the fuck is wrong? What did I do wrong this time?”

“Oh, did you forget it already? How about refreshing your memory a little bit?”

“Oh yeah, sure, go on. I’m listening.” His voice sounded so angry. Angry like the many times before, the many times that we had argued, the many times that I let him do what he wanted to do.

But not today.

It was making me sick. It was making me so fucking sick.

It had to stop.

“What about all the times you make me feel like shit? Like when you just turn away and act like I made the biggest mistake on earth, while I’m actually trying to be perfect. I’m trying to be perfect for you, Tom. But I am not.”

He was quiet now, face still distorted with anger, still mad, but something new had appeared, something that slowly broke my heart, shattering it into millions of small pieces, so it seemed like it was impossible to ever fix it again. Making it impossible to fix me again.

When I felt this way, I just wanted to say everything. I wanted to let it go, I wanted to push it away from me, spitting out the words so they would leave my body and my mind alone, so I could be peaceful again. I had been keeping this inside me for too long.

“Do you know how it feels every time you turn away? I guess you don’t. It makes me want to feel the pain, because it makes me feel like I deserve it. It makes me want to tear my skin apart and it makes me want to break my bones, so they could lie on the ground together with the pieces of my heart. Because it makes me go crazy, it makes me go insane, like I can’t think straight anymore. And do you know how awful it is for me to feel that way? You are such a moody person, every little step in the wrong direction makes me think that I overstepped the bounds. If you don’t get what you want, you immediately act like a little kid that doesn’t get its sweets. But that’s not how the world works. That’s not how we work, Tom. And even if I’m trying so hard it seems like I’m just disappointing you. It seems like I’m just a big disappointment. And then you ignore me. You leave me on my own while I’m breaking apart, actually kicking the pieces of me further afar, so I can’t be fixed. But I don’t think I’m the only one who’s fucked up here. You are fucked up as well. You are so totally fucked up. You don’t know what you want and it kills you and I know it. Right now would like to punch me, kick me, just shut me up, because you can’t bear with it. It’s breaking you just like it breaks me.

I hate it. I really hate it.

It’s hurting me to know that I am hurting you. It always will.”

I paused but I didn’t look at him. I wanted to let the words sink in but I didn’t want to see his reaction. Eventually I started talking again.

“I love you, Tom, I love you so much. Maybe I love you too much. I just feel like I’m not good enough. I feel like I can’t give you what you want. I feel like I deserve it. But at the same time it’s killing me, every time a little bit more, and one day I’ll be gone.

This is not how I thought this relationship would be. This is pure torture, this is pain. And it could be death. The question is who would give in first. We both know it. It’s getting harder every day, trying to not totally snap. You are like a time bomb, ticking away. And I can’t tell when you are going to explode. But when you do, you are going to leave me behind like a vast landscape, a desert, forgotten and alone.

We are not good for each other.”

He wasn’t crying. He just looked like he wanted to, but couldn’t. He never could. That was the difference between us. He couldn’t show is feelings while I was like an open book, waiting to be read. But sometimes people didn’t use the information they read. Instead they just ripped out the pages, burnt holes into them, slit open the cover, marking them as their own.

 

I was his.

He never was mine.

I wasn’t his anymore.

He would never be mine.

 

“I am sorry.” I said as I stepped to the door, turning around to face him the last time, “But I can’t do this anymore.”


End file.
